


nothing's going to change my world

by freshbloom



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M, also kind of emotional too, and plus i wanted to write cute rainy day moments, anyway!! enjoy, but in a good way, but these two are so in love i figured i'd lay off the sad stuff, cause they deserve them, i know we're all shocked i didn't write angst for once, it's fluff city yall!, kind of, take a shot every time someone kisses the other person's cheek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-20 01:49:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16546496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshbloom/pseuds/freshbloom
Summary: Mike's still here, in this basement, feeding her and giving her warm clothes, making her smile and feel as though everything is new and full of wonder. He's here and loving her, just as he had been then. The thought makes her both happy and unbearably sad, and the feeling in her chest sinks and settles in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable.Nostalgia,she recalls. Hop had once told her it was the worst, best thing she could ever feel.Or,mileven week, day 7:in the rain





	nothing's going to change my world

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to my bff val (vwheeler on tumblr) for all the support <3 i love u!!

 

 

November 12, 1988

* * *

El is going to die. 

 

She knows it. She's going to die, and it's going to be _the lamest_ death ever, and god, she can already hear Max taunting her in the afterlife. She's going to die here, on this sidewalk, halfway to Mike's house and on the verge of freezing all because she didn't think to grab her stupid raincoat. 

She'd been at home, bored out of her mind waiting for Hop to get back from work. She'd been stuck watching back to back episodes of Jeopardy (and really, she can only take so much of that before insanity settles in), when the bright idea to visit Mike had struck her. She'd looked outside before she left, and _sure_ , the sky had been grey and dreary, but the news hadn't reported any rain, and El didn't feel much like sifting through her closet to find her jacket.

She hadn't anticipated the sky bursting midway through her walk. The rain came suddenly, almost as though she'd blinked and found herself caught in an onslaught of water. Now, she's forced to endure the cold droplets of rain falling fast and falling everywhere, and by the time she gets to Mike's house, she's completely soaked. El rings the doorbell and waits, shivering and shaking and wishing Mike would just _hurry up_. After what seems like forever, he opens the door—rubbing his eyes tiredly, his hair a frizzy, floppy mess. He must've been asleep. For a second, El feels bad for waking him—but then the cold settles in again, her teeth chattering and her hands almost completely numb, and she changes her mind. _Better I wake him up than freeze to death._

"God, finally." She says. "Move over so I can come in." Mike chuckles and drops his hands to look at her, eyes tired but bright in the dim evening lighting. 

"Well, it's nice to see—" He starts. Something flashes in his eyes, suddenly, as if he's just now realizing she's in front of him. His mouth drops open as he takes her in—her yellow sweater (some old one of Joyce's she'd stolen) drenched and sticking to her skin uncomfortably, her hair plastered against her face and her breathing heavy from the walk over. He’s frozen in place, eyes raking over her figure wildly and El furrows her brow, unsure as to why he's looking at her like she’s some sort of ghost. 

"Mike? Are you okay?" She says, tone lilting with confusion. The question seems to pull him back. Mike shakes his head slightly, eyes blinking slowly and his mouth snapping shut. 

"What? Oh, yeah. Uh, just—just come on in." He moves to the side and El steps in, the warmth of the Wheeler house instantly blanketing her. She lets out a sigh of content. Beside her, Mike yawns, and she turns to face him.

 "Let's get you some dry clothes." He grabs her hand and tugs her forward, his footsteps leading them in the familiar path to his basement. Soon enough, they're standing in his little space. The blanket fort is still propped up in the corner, bigger now to accommodate for how much the two of them have grown. There's toys strewn about everywhere—remnants from childhood littering the space—and it makes El smile to see his old D&D writing notebook open on the table--she's missed his campaigns, just as all their friends have. She hopes he's writing a new one. 

Mike drops her hand, walking over to a pile of laundry set beside the fort. He bends down, sifting through the clothes for a moment, before standing back up to face her. When he looks at her—standing in the middle of his basement, clothes dripping water onto the carpet—something like recognition flashes in his eyes again, and he's back to staring at her the way he had earlier; eyes wide and glazed over, his entire body frozen in place. After a few moments, El raises an eyebrow, and Mike blinks. He shakes his head, clears his throat and walks over to her. 

"Here, these are clean." He says, handing her an old, navy blue sweater and some sweatpants, folded up neatly and smelling of the Wheeler's preferred laundry detergent—some overbearing flower scent Karen loves. 

"Thank you, bub." She says, pressing the clothes against her chest. 

Mike leans in and kisses her forehead. "You get changed, I'll go grab some food." He turns before she can tell him she's not very hungry, his tall figure disappearing up the stairs. El just sighs, setting his clothes down on the ground. She slips out of her drenched clothing and pulls Mike's on, practically wanting to cry in relief at the difference. She's already so much warmer, and the material isn’t flushed to her skin uncomfortably, and it makes all the difference. Bundling up her sweater and leggings, she sets them in the dirty laundry bin and settles herself on the couch to wait for Mike. He comes down a few minutes later, a tray of food in his hands.  

"No adults," He says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Just us and some meatloaf." He sets the tray of food down on the small table in front of them, before moving to sit next to her on the couch. 

" _Oh my god,_ never try to be flirty and use the word meatloaf in the same go." She says, scrunching her face up in disgust. And though she's teasing him lightheartedly, she has a feeling in her chest like she might cry. She remembers hearing those words years ago, when they were much younger and she wasn't quite sure what to make of this boy, her boy, who took her in, brought her food and a home and made sure she felt safe when he didn't have to. So much is different now. Her hair is longer. She knows how to speak to people, both with and without words. He's a lot taller, angry some days and so full of joy on others. The both of them are older, carrying scars from trauma they never deserved. But so much is the same, too. Mike's still here, in this basement, feeding her and giving her warm clothes, making her smile and feel as though everything is new and full of wonder. He's here and loving her, just as he had been then. The thought makes her both happy and unbearably sad, and the feeling in her chest sinks and settles in her stomach, heavy and uncomfortable. _Nostalgia,_ she recalls. Hop had once told her it was the worst, best thing she could ever feel.   

"What, so meatloaf can't be sexy?" Mike says, pulling her out of her thoughts. He's smirking, eyes twinkling with amusement and she can't tell if he notices the parallel in his words, too. If he does, he doesn't show it. 

El rolls her eyes, playing along to stop the breakdown building in her head. "I mean sure, whatever gets you going. No judgment here, weirdo."  

Mike scoffs, then leans in to kiss her cheek. "Don't act like you're not into it." He whispers, voice low and raspy, breath just tickling her neck. El pushes him away, laughing.  

"You're embarrassing." Mike just looks at her, grinning, his eyes no longer teasing but soft, full of love. El blushes, heat bursting in her face and across her entire body. She can never handle it when he looks at her like that—awestruck, like she's the best thing he's ever seen.  

"Yeah, but you love me, so that makes you even more embarrassing." Mike says, moving back in beside her, his arm wrapping around her side to pull her in closer. El lifts her legs so they're draped across his own, and turns slightly so she can face him better. 

"I guess so." She says, biting her lip. Mike's eyes light up, his smile growing even wider. Even now, after they've been together for years, he gets excited whenever she mentions that she loves him, and El's pretty sure it's the only pure thing left in this world. She hopes he'll never stop feeling that way.  

Mike moves in, his forehead coming to rest against her own. The two of them are so close their noses are brushing. She has half a mind to remember the food they've abandoned on the table, but really, who cares when their lips are so nearly touching and she can practically count all the freckles dotting his cheeks. 

"Hi." He whispers.  

"Hi." 

"How's it going?" 

"Okay. I'm cold." 

"Hmm, we should probably do something about that."

El raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"

"I don't know," He says. "How about this?" His arms wrap around her waist to pull her in closer, and then suddenly, he's peppering kisses all over her face. Her cheeks, her nose, her forehead—he works his way down to her jawline, pressing gentle kisses where her jaw meets her neck and _oh_ , she's definitely warmed up now.  

"Mike!" El laughs. _God_ , he's such a dork sometimes and she's enjoying it far too much until a clap of thunder bursts outside, and she jumps in fright.  She's much older now, but some nights she can't shake her fear of the rain—of being stuck, all alone in Mirkwood, running for her life while the world floods around her. It's embarrassing—she's 17 and the fear still manages to creep up on her like she's 12--and she feels the shame bubble up in her stomach when Mike pulls back to look at her, brow furrowed in concern.  

"You okay?" He questions. El turns her head, cheeks flushing red. 

"Yeah. Fine." She says. Mike reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. 

“El?” She swallows, looks back at him. His eyes linger on her face for a moment, gentle and caring, before they light up with excitement. 

"Wait here, I have an idea." He says, before he's off the couch like a rocket, racing up the stairs and leaving El dazed. A few moments later, he's bounding back down the stairs carrying a thick blue blanket—the one usually draped across his bed—in his arms. 

"So, we're going to sleep?" El questions. Mike shakes his head. 

"Nope. Follow me." Mike walks over to the basement door. He opens it, letting the sound of the storm wash out the quiet serenity of the room. El gets up, rubbing her arms to shield off the cold that creeps in.

"You know, I came here so I _wouldn't_  die of hypothermia," She says, sounding out the word slowly. She still struggles at times, but she's learning not to resent herself for it. "Now you're just going to throw me in the cold again." Mike turns, his hand pressed against his chest and his lips pulled down into a frown. 

"And here I was thinking you came to see me." 

"Sorry, bub. I'm just here to steal your sweaters." El grins, and Mike's hurt facade breaks. His lips quirk up into a smile, and he rolls his eyes at her in exasperation.  

"So mean." He mumbles, before reaching his hand out as a sign for her to grab it. She steps towards him and interlocks her fingers with his own. _(Somehow, she instantly forgets she was ever cold in the first place, or what it could ever feel like to be cold at all.)_

"We're gonna watch the rain fall." Mike says, his voice filled with what she can only describe as childlike wonder—like the two of them are the first people to ever watch as the rain pours down. It tugs at her heart softly, and she finds herself moving to stand even closer to him.

"Why?"

"It'll make you feel better," He says. "Just trust me." And really, how could she not? He took her in (just as he had before, just like he always does) even despite being woken from sleep,  made her feel warm and content and now he's trying his hardest to make her feel better—to help her overcome some childish fear. So she nods, squeezes his hand. She'll always trust him. 

Mike pulls the both of them down to the ground, and they sit themselves on the ledge of the basement door. He drops her hand to wrap the blanket around the two of them, the quilted material draping across both of their shoulders and around into their laps. El snuggles in closer to him, drops her head down onto his shoulder. The rain is falling just as heavily as it had on her walk over, but El tries her absolute hardest to see it differently—to put aside the thoughts of the unbearable cold and the sudden strikes of thunder that make her feel as though the world is angry with her, with everyone. Mike had said they were watching the rain fall, so she focuses on that—on the way that it falls. 

It's pouring down in sheets; gentle in a way, but loud, too. And maybe it's the cold settling into her head, but El thinks maybe, just maybe, rain speaks. It almost whispers, at first. Soft and childlike. It nudges you gently, reminds you to put your coat on, to be safe on your way home and to watch the clouds. Now, it's overbearing, echoing everywhere all at once—thrumming it's message across the ground and across the rooftops. She wishes she knew what it was trying to say, maybe it would help her feel less afraid. 

The streets are slick like oil, reflecting the haze of the streetlights and the rays glowing from windows in houses like distant, glimmering candles. The world seems raw like this, drenched to the bone and kicking up dirt in it's own waters. It brings her some strange sense of peace. The universe feels just the same as she does, some days.  

"See, it's not so bad after all." Mike says, his voice pulling her from her thoughts. 

"No, it's not bad," She agrees. "Pretty." He presses a kiss to the top of her head, and El smiles, nuzzling even further into his side. They slip back into silence, the both of them quietly taking in the rain and each other, before Mike's voice pipes up again. 

"El?"

"Yeah?" She says. When he doesn't answer for a little while longer, El lifts her head to look at him. He's staring out at the street ahead, his brow furrowed in a way that tells her he's mulling something over. She's about to ask him if he's okay, when, finally, he opens his mouth to speak. 

"You're my best friend." He turns his head to look at her, his expression softened, now, his eyes hooded with emotion and El knows—knows what it is he really means. 

"You're so sappy." She teases, reaching up to tap his nose with her finger. Mike pouts, face scrunching up adorably, and El grins. 

"And _you're_  rude," He huffs, turning his head away from her. "I take it back." El laughs, wraps her arms around his neck in a side-hug. The blanket falls from her shoulders and the cold floods in, but pressed up beside him like this, she barely even notices. She doesn't think she's ever felt more warmth in her life. 

"I'm just kidding, dweeb." She says, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. Her lips just brush against the corner of his own, and even though they've kissed, been close (closer) like this more times than she can think to count, Mike's face still burns red. It makes her smile even wider. He looks _so pretty_ —all wrapped up in blankets and an old sweater, cheeks dusted pink and dotted with freckles that kiss his pale skin like stardust. His hair is a haphazard mess, curled at the ends and falling into his eyes, and in the soft glow of the basement light flooding in from behind, Mike looks ethereal. Like the sun itself, still shining even as the rain falls. It's enough to convince her that there's magic in the world of the beautiful kind, the kind that can save you. Not the kind that brings fairy-tale monsters to life and quietly steals kids in the dark. 

It's too much. He's so pretty, her heart hurts. 

She swallows the emotion swelling in her throat, leans in a little closer. Mike turns to look at her as she moves in, eyes wide and earnest and lovely. _Magic_ , she thinks, before resting her forehead against his own. 

"You're my best friend, too." She whispers, her tone laced with emotion that feels much bigger than this night, than the both of them. But Mike smiles, lets out a shaky breath, and she watches as his eyes flutter shut. He leans in, slowly, and then he's kissing her. His lips press firmly against her own, slightly chapped from the cold weather, but _god_ , he's kissing her like she's every good thing, like the _pitter patter_ of rain on the sidewalk—hard and all-consuming and El is flooding with love, with Mike. She pulls him in closer, arms wrapping even tighter around his neck, and his hands reach up to cup her face, his thumbs brushing across her cheeks affectionately. There's so many layers between them—scratchy sweaters and the thick quilted blanket falling across the both of them; but El can feel his warmth and smell traces of his cologne intertwined with the sweet fragrance of the rain and _he's her best friend_ and she swears she's never been closer to him. 

Mike pulls back, breathless. His face is flushed, his lips fuller, and as he smiles at her, she thinks back to another night—one where where’d they been 12, scared and hiding in the middle school, and he’d told her what it meant to like someone the way he liked her. After he’d kissed her then, he’d smiled at her the same way he is now. And El knows, that even if they’re older, even if the world has changed as they’ve changed, nothing changes between Mike and El. They stay the same, constant like the humming of rain on rooftops.

**Author's Note:**

> hi!! firstly, im just gonna apologize for that trash ending, but in my defense it was 2am and i couldn't think of how i wanted this to go... and this is where we are. oops.
> 
> the weather has been SO perfect for writing this. it's been pretty rainy (now snowy) and it got me in the right mood for writing these two cuties in the rain.  
> i don't know about you, but when it rains, i like to prop the backyard door open, grab some tea and some blankets, and sit and watch the rainfall with my cat. maybe that's like, super lame, but i wanted to write mike and el doing that because it's like kinda cute at the same time?? idk. you tell me. 
> 
> tumblr: eleven-n-mike  
> until next time! <3


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